


No Name Possible

by voleuse



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-14
Updated: 2004-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:51:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Years later this will matter</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Name Possible

**Author's Note:**

> In the "Boromir didn't die" AU. Title, summary, and headings taken from _Sky_ by Ruth Danon.

** _i. without the first person or second_ **

He suffers from nightmares, even after so many years past the quest, and the wars. Demons whisper to him through the nights, when not even his sword and shield are available to him. They enumerate his failures, though the light of day reveals their lies.

_Lies_, he tells himself when he wakes.

He did not give in to the ring's temptation.

He did not betray his companions.

He did not spatter Frodo's blood on his hands.

He did not abandon his people.

He did not die on the forest's floor.

In daylight, he knows the truth. In the moonlight, however, there is no such clarity.

** _ii. destiny and shadow_ **

To escape his nightly terrors, he takes to haunting the halls, prowling about columns and statues as if he could catch his nightmares unaware, and pounce.

One night, however, he stumbles across something entirely unexpected. Or, rather, someone.

His queen.

He's barely stammered an apology, some semblance of explanation for his wanderings, when she raises her hand. Tilts her head, and he watches her lips as they part, soundless, for a moment. Then she speaks.

"I know what haunts you." She pauses again, then meets his eyes. "I see it as well."

He swallows, his throat suddenly dry. "You see--"

"What could have been."

** _iii. alive and alive_ **

She bids him good night with a nod, and slips silently into the shadows.

He returns to his chambers, and sleeps without dreaming.

The next morning, he meets with his king for breakfast, as is custom. Aragorn looks at him curiously, murmurs something about a livelier manner.

He can't think of a reply, so Aragorn fills the void, kindly.

"You spoke with her."

He nods.

"It helped." Aragorn considers, and there is silence for a time.

Sunlight streams through the window, lending a glint to the water in Boromir's cup. He thinks he seems his reflection in it for a moment, but pale and drawn. Like death.

"Boromir." Aragorn's voice breaks his trance. "If the dreams return..."

"Yes?"

"Come to us."

** _iv. the text of the sky_ **

The nightmares do not return immediately.

He's able, for a few days, to regain his former vitality. He surveys the men with new eyes, inspects the city's defenses, even steps in to play at swords with his cousins.

He smiles at Arwen when they cross paths, and doesn't think of the way her skin glowed under the moon.

Aragorn does not mention his offer, in the meantime, but when they are alone, Boromir dares to wonder, but there is no urgency to those musings.

** _v. this really happens_ **

The voice is guttural, malicious. Demanding.

Persuasive. Truthful.

He can save Gondor, if he dares this one thing. A small betrayal.

What is one halfling when compared to his people? How can Frodo's blood signify more than all of Gondor's?

Frodo refuses his offer, turns his back.

The voice tells Boromir what he has to do.

He draws his sword, slowly, quietly. Takes three quick strides, and swings down.

Frodo does not so much as scream as he dies, and Boromir wrests the ring from his hand, feels it cool against his fingers, and slips it on--

He wakes.

** _vi. I do not know how_ **

The stars are out, lighting his path to their chambers. He half-formulates an excuse for his visit before he realizes there are no guards obstructing his path.

He wonders, then worries, then seethes over that conveninent carelessness.

"I sent them away."

Her voice weaves through the shadows, and his body jerks as she appears in the doorway. He thinks to protest.

"It is not--"

She shakes her head. "No one here would harm me." The corners of her mouth quirk. "Or would you disagree?"

"No!" The exclamation has passed his lips without hesitation.

She smiles fully, then, and holds her hands out. "Then come in."

** _vii. slip of the tongue. kiss. do_ **

He's barely stepped within the room before her slight body leans against him, and her lips press against his.

He freezes, then liquefies, his mouth slanting down, his hands sliding around her waist, and only when he groans into her mouth that he realizes what he's doing, pulls back with a start.

He stares down at her face, her flushed cheeks, then looks up and shudders.

Aragorn is watching.

** _viii. and in the meanwhile_ **

"My lord," he blurts, then stops. He can think of nothing to say, so he carefully extricates himself from Arwen's embrace. Shivers in the night air.

Aragorn ignores his distress, his expression concerned. "You dreamed again?" He is clothed for sleep, but his body's stance is alert.

Boromir shivers again, for an entirely different reason. "I did."

Arwen takes his hand gently, leads him to their bed, and draws him to sit. Keeps hold of his hand even when Aragorn slides onto the bed behind her, wraps his arms loosely around her.

They kiss gently, and Boromir feels awkward, extraneous.

Then they turn their attention to him.

** _ix. and the wind. and the wind_ **

Together, they disrobe him, trail their lips and hands against his skin.

Aragorn's kiss is less delicate than Arwen's, but just as attentive. Boromir's breath comes in sharp gasps when they part, and Arwen is murmuring in his ear, asking a question.

He chokes out the contents of his dream, and the vivid fears that follow him everywhere. The past, the future. Betrayal and blood.

"I killed him." Aragorn's hand is on his hip, and Arwen eases against his back, but for a moment, he is besieged by misery. "I cannot be trusted."

Arwen's lips trail across his shoulders, and he gasps when Aragorn grasps his cock, strokes. "How can you--"

Hands firm, Arwen turns him to face her. She studies him, and he fears her judgment, but she only smiles. Kisses him again.

"I know you," she whispers.

"As do I," Aragorn adds, punctuating his statement in a way that makes Boromir arch and moan. He meets Boromir's eyes. "I would trust the world to you."

He catches his breath, closes his eyes and feels tears slip across his face. Feels Arwen's face bow to his and kiss the tears away.

"Believe," she responds to his unspoken longing. "Just believe."

He opens his eyes and looks into the faces of his beloved king and queen.

And he believes.


End file.
